


Say Crack Again

by Mackaley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), Bibliophile Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bondage, Books, Crack, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Discord: O Lord Heal This Server, Food Kink, Frottage, IKEA, M/M, Magician Aziraphale (Good Omens), Masturbation, Perfectly Horrid Velocipedes, Plants, Praise Kink, Prophecy, Sentient Bentley (Good Omens), Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Valentine's Day, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 14,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22443502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackaley/pseuds/Mackaley
Summary: Weekly crack prompts that I'm obligated to fill.This week: Valentine's Day
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 295
Kudos: 776
Collections: The Not-Very-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies of OLHTS





	1. Sausage Oral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is determined to figure out just exactly how one makes out with a hot dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aziraphale enjoys his food just a _bit_ too much

_"Made out with a hot dog? Oh my god, that was one time!”_

After the apocalypse, Crowley had insisted on a weekly movie night to catch the angel up on the decades of pop culture that he’d missed. Tonight, Crowley had brought a movie called “Mean Girls”. Aziraphale was enjoying himself, even if he didn’t quite understand all the references.

“How could she make out with a hot dog? What does that mean?”

“It’s just a joke from sixteen years ago, angel. Don’t think too hard about it.”

Crowley tightened his arm around the angel’s shoulders and Aziraphale settled back into Crowley’s warmth. He tried to pay attention to the rest of the movie, but he couldn’t stop thinking about that line. What did it _mean_?! How could you make out with a hot dog?!

The following day he would have to conduct an experiment. 

He procured a lamb sausage from the nearest pub around lunch and brought it back to the shop. He locked the door and closed the shutters before heading to the back room. The general public didn't need to see this. 

He took the sausage out of the to-go container and eyed it carefully. It was glistening and plump. He inhaled the sumptuous aroma of spices and licked his lips. Right. Just. Go at it, he guessed. 

He tentatively flicked his tongue and groaned at the rich, spicy taste. He ran his tongue along the length of the sausage and then took it gently into his mouth. He continued to suck and lave his tongue around the sausage, moaning and groaning as he went. 

He heard a sudden bang and Crowley came storming into the back room. 

“Angel! I’ve done some research about that hot dog line - turns out the original line was ‘ _masturbated_ with a hot--’ Uh.”

Aziraphale stood frozen, his eyes wide and the sausage jammed halfway down his throat. Crowley blinked several times and then grinned. 

“You know, there's another sausage you could be stuffing your mouth with, angel.”


	2. Feed Me, Seymour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to love his plants by making him pretend to be one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Crowley's sentient plants
> 
> This won the "This Made Me Horny and I Don't Like It" award this week and I've never been prouder
> 
> 2/6/2020: I am unanonymizing these fics bc my dear, lovely, wildly talented friend Ginger made this [exquisite fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531924/chapters/54017470) of this ridiculous fic and I love her to pieces for it

It started, as most of their games did, with Aziraphale’s single-minded determination to root out every one of Crowley’s insecurities and soothe them away. 

He'd finished his daily plant care and sat down on the couch next to Aziraphale, propping his long legs up on the coffee table. Aziraphale had turned to him with That Look in his eyes and Crowley groaned. 

“I can't even imagine what this is going to be.”

“Darling, have you considered being nicer to them? Tending them with a gentler hand? They're alive, you know. They have feelings.”

Crowley scowled. “Don't tell me how to tend my plants and I won't tell you how to mind your shop.”

“I just think--have you ever considered that you're using them as a proxy for yourself? That by demanding perfection with no salvation you’re working out some, ah, old wounds?”

Crowley froze. “I don't--no--that’s not--”

Aziraphale laid an assuring hand on his knee. “You always take so well to my praise and encouragement. I think you'd see the plants would feel the same way. In fact, there's one way I think would drive the point home.”

So here Crowley was, on his knees, naked except for the foliage tastefully covering his body, in his own goddamn plant room, nestled among the rest of his plants and. Waiting. Just waiting for Aziraphale to perform whatever experiment this was. 

The angel strode into the room in only his trousers, dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and a gardening belt around his waist. He hummed appreciatively as he looked around the room, but ignored Crowley for the moment. Crowley watched as he walked to each plant in turn and murmured soft encouragement and praise, complimenting the coloration and shape of their leaves. 

Aziraphale unclipped the plant mister from his belt and spritzed the leaves in gentle arcs and the plants shivered from the attention. 

“Oh yes, you beautiful thing. Look at how well you're doing. It's nice to be given some loving care and individual attention, isn't it?”

Crowley knew he wasn't talking to him yet, but he felt his cock start to stir at the praise. Stupid Pavlovian responses. 

Aziraphale unclipped another bottle from his belt - fertilizer, Crowley recognized - and he continued to pay each plant the individual care and attention it deserved, although he neglected the plants on Crowley’s side of the room for the moment. 

“Oh, is that a little spot? Poor dear, you're shaking so much. No need to be so frightened. We all have our faults and have all had our troubles in the past, but that doesn't mean that we don’t deserve to be looked after. That we shouldn't be afforded understanding.” 

The trembling leaf in front of Aziraphale unfurled and gently brushed across his cheek. The angel giggled and he ran a hand along the leaf. “Yes, that's right. You're beautiful, spots and all.”

Crowley stood in awe of this display. It was so ridiculous, so heavy-handed, and yet he was kneeling, hard, with tears pricking his eyes. He wanted Aziraphale to pay attention to him next, to coax some brightness out of the dark place his heart lived in. 

As if Aziraphale could hear his thoughts, he turned to face Crowley and gasped. He crossed the room to stand in front of the demon and Crowley lifted his head to look at him with reverence. 

“Aren’t you _beautiful_? Who knew such an exquisite specimen grew right here in my love’s flat?” Aziraphale extended his hand and tenderly caressed the leaves attached to Crowley’s collarbones. He grazed his nails along Crowley’s neck and came up to cup his cheek. Crowley extended his neck and pressed into his touch, like a plant blooming towards the sun. Aziraphale hummed approvingly. 

“A gorgeous plant like you deserves some _special_ attention, don’t you think? Let’s see.” He rummaged through the items on his belt before frowning slightly. “I don't think any of these _common_ gardening tools will suffice for something as unique and lovely as you. But you do look like you need some nourishment.” He paused in thought, as if he hadn't been planning this since the beginning. Crowley wanted to offer a sarcastic comment, but he promised Aziraphale he wouldn't speak unless he needed to call the scene. He waited for Aziraphale. 

“Ah yes! I've got it. You need a special kind of plant food, clearly.” Aziraphale unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them down, nudging them off his feet. He similarly disposed of his briefs and Crowley’s mouth watered at his flushed cock. He licked his lips and the foliage attached to his body rustled in anticipation. 

“Yes, that's right, darling. Oh, you're going to look so beautiful after you've swallowed my seed.”

The angel shuffled closer to him and Crowley opened his mouth eagerly, laying his tongue flat. “Open up for me, that's a dear.” Aziraphale placed his cock in his mouth and Crowley savored the heavy weight on his tongue before latching his lips around the shaft and bobbing gently. He hummed and Aziraphale moaned. 

“What a talented plant, what an exquisite thing. Oh _yes_.” 

He continued to suck Aziraphale's cock until Aziraphale threaded his fingers through his hair and began pumping his hips faster. “Yes, yes, are you ready for your special food?”

Crowley sucked harder and suddenly Aziraphale was coming down his throat. He swallowed it all down and waited as Aziraphale pulled his cock from his throat. His cock was throbbing between his legs, jutting out amongst the foliage at the crux of his thighs. 

Aziraphale smiled down at him. “Oh, what a clever plant. So lovely and doing so well.” Crowley preened under the praise. 

“What's this?” Aziraphale knelt down and moved the foliage aside, brushing Crowley’s cock in the process. He groaned. “Is this your stamen? Did your special treat leave you needing something else?”

He wrapped his fingers around Crowley’s cock and he bucked up into the angel’s hand. His cock was slick with precome and _how was he so close already?_

“Yes, that's it. And I think we could use a helping hand, hm? Dears, would you give me a hand?”

Crowley jolted as he realized Aziraphale was talking to the other plants in the room and jumped even further when he felt the tendrils of the plants nearest him caress his body. They furled and unfurled against him, brushing up against his nipples and his perineum. They tangled gently in his hair and around his neck and he whined at the overstimulation. His hips pumped faster and Aziraphale continued to croon his praise to Crowley and the rest of the plants. 

“You can let go whenever you want, dearest one. You deserve to feel as good as you want. Because you are a _good plant_." Aziraphale gave one final twist to the head of his cock and he was coming, gasping out as one of the plants ran its leaves down his side.

He collapsed forward into Aziraphale's arms and the plants retracted, still quivering from the excitement. Aziraphale removed the foliage from his body and ran soothing circles on his back. 

“Do you see now how a little gentle encouragement can produce wonderful results?”

Crowley rolled his eyes but nuzzled closer to him. “Yeah, yeah, angel. I get it.”


	3. Snakes is Slitherin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley shows Aziraphale just what those hips do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Crowley's snakey tendencies
> 
> To all of you who subscribed after the last one: welcome to hell and also, y'all good?

Aziraphale had always found Crowley’s swaying hips attractive. The demon hadn't always walked like that, it had taken a millennia or two before he really perfected it, but once he _had_ , well. God help him. The angel enjoyed taking long strolls with Crowley through gardens and parks and marketplaces. For his company, of course, and for those perfectly sinful hips moving back and forth as he sauntered his way through life. 

After Armageddon, Aziraphale was more than pleased to find that those hips moved just as powerfully when Crowley was fucking him, just as gracefully as Crowley rode his cock. He thought he'd imagined every possible way Crowley could use those hips to have sex. He realized his mistake the following year in late June. 

They were on a long overdue beach holiday in the Caribbean and Aziraphale shook out a large blanket on the sand. As he set up the umbrella and laid out the picnic spread, Crowley had run past him and dove into the water, letting out an enthusiastic _whoop_! Aziraphale smiled; Crowley had become so much more carefree and relaxed over the past ten months and it warmed his heart every time he saw blatant evidence of it. 

He sat back in his comfortable chair and watched Crowley splash around for a few moments before turning to the book he had brought from their cabana and popped a frozen grape in his mouth. He read for awhile and was broken from his reverie by Crowley emerging from the ocean, water dripping down his lean body in rivulets and his red hair darker and plastered to his forehead. His Speedo shorts were tight and wet and Aziraphale licked his lips, feeling parched all of a sudden. 

Crowley flopped on his stomach in the sand next to Aziraphale and grinned over at him. “Sure you don't want to go in the water? Feels great.”

“Maybe later. But don't let me stop you from splashing about like a dying fish.”

Crowley flicked some sand at him and Aziraphale gasped. “ _Crowley, honestly._ ” 

The demon laughed and wiggled against the warm sand beneath him. “Mm. Gonna bake and take a nap, angel. Wake me up when you're ready to leave.”

Aziraphale turned back to his book, but only seconds later he was hit by some sand again. “Crowley, that is enou--” He turned to look at Crowley and gaped at what he saw. 

Crowley was moving those _perfect_ hips and legs back and forth in an s-motion to quickly bury his entire body sans head shallowly under the sand. He whipped his body back and forth until he was covered and he let out a contented sigh and drifted off to sleep. 

Aziraphale was stunned. He thought he'd learned all the ways Crowley could move his hips, snakey as he was, but he didn't know he could move them side-to-side like that. He felt dizzy and aroused and oh good lord, what was wrong with him?

He couldn't focus on reading or anything else but Crowley’s hips and finally after an hour, he called out to the demon who roused from his sleep with an annoyed grumble. 

“Dear, we need to go back to the house. _Now_."

“Wuzzat?”

“We're going to have sex.”

Crowley jumped up from his sand prison, shaking his body off like a dog and Aziraphale rolled his eyes before snapping his fingers to remove the sand from both of them. A second snap packed up their belongings and they walked the short way to their beach house. 

As soon as they stepped through the door, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s shoulders and walked them backwards to the couch. He laid back on it and pulled the demon on top of him. Crowley began kissing his neck, removed their clothes with a hand wave, and Aziraphale took a deep breath. 

“This is a ridiculous request, but I want to try something.”

Crowley mouthed at his jaw. “Mmhmm?”

“You know how you buried yourself in the sand?” 

Crowley pulled back with a slight frown. “Yes?”

“It's just. You moved in such a _way_ , and you know how much I _love_ your hips…”

Crowley tilted his head. “That was just some weird leftover snake behavior. Helps you hide in the sand faster.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I know, I've seen those nature documentaries you insist we watch. It's just. _Hips_.”

Crowley smiled down at him and braced his arms on either side of Aziraphale’s head. He lowered himself and began swinging his legs and hips slowly back and forth, grinding and rubbing their cocks against each other. Aziraphale groaned. 

“Is this what you had in mind, angel?” 

“Yes, darling, _faster_."

Crowley moved faster. Aziraphale moaned as their cocks slapped against each other. Crowley’s weight and movement pushed him deep into the couch and Crowley’s arms flexed as he kept his body upright while swinging back and forth. 

Aziraphale knew he was close and he cried out. “Crowley, Crowley I'm going to--”

“Yeah, angel? Come on, let go. Come for me.”

Aziraphale came in hot, sticky pulses between them and Crowley was close behind. The demon collapsed on top of him and Aziraphale stroked his hair gently. 

“Thank you for always indulging me, darling.”

Crowley kissed his nose. “Of course, angel. Any other snakey desires I can provide for you?”

Aziraphale paused in thought. “Well there is _one_ more thing.”


	4. Witness Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley are gonna die historic on Tadfield Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: true forms
> 
> No porn this time, folks. Just good old-fashioned crack.

“Angel! I need your help!”

Crowley burst through the bookshop door and Aziraphale jumped, almost upending the plate he was holding. 

“Crowley, _really_! You almost made me drop my croissant!”

“There’s no time for pastries, angel!” Crowley knocked the plate out of his hands onto the floor and Aziraphale gasped loudly. Crowley stared down at the mess. 

“I'm sorry. That was too much--I’ll just--sorry.” He miracled the plate new and the croissant whole again and handed it back to Aziraphale. 

“ _Thank you_.” 

“I still need your help, though.”

“You know I'm always willing to help, darling,” Aziraphale mumbled with his mouth full. “What is it?”

Crowley remembered his problem and seethed, pacing the shop and baring his teeth. “It's those _Tadfield miscreants_ ," he hissed. “Our _godson_ has just gotten a motorbike and he had the _audacity_ to challenge me to a race! Me!”

Aziraphale stared at him blankly. “I don't know what to do with this information.” He paused. “Oh, Crowley, don’t tell me you're going to race the Bentley against a motorb--”

“ _When I'm done with that delinquent he’ll WISH I was racing the Bentley._ ”

Aziraphale sighed. “I do not want to be involved with this."

* * *

“Where is he anyway? He’s fifteen minutes late.” 

Pepper rolled her eyes. “He's obviously not coming because he was too scared to face Adam!”

Adam stood astride his motorbike, helmet loose on the top of his head. “Let's give them another fifteen minutes. There's no way Crowley wouldn't--”

A deafening rush and a bright burst of light flew through the clearing. The Them covered their eyes and their ears as best as they could as a large flaming wheel with many eyes and wings burst into view, Crowley straddling the top of it and laughing maniacally. Adam was the first to recover. 

“Crowley, what is that? Whatever it is, it's cheating.”

“Hello, Adam. Pepper, Brian, Wensleydale, Dog.” Aziraphale’s cheery (if somewhat resigned) voice echoed loudly from the flaming wheel. The Them’s jaws dropped. 

“Is that you, Aziraphale?”

There was a loud sigh. “Yes, it's me. This is my true for--”

“Can it, angel!” A pause. “I'm so sorry. But listen here, Adam! All you said was I couldn't ride the Bentley - you never said I couldn't ride my husband!” Another pause. “Shut up. Get that helmet on and let’s GO.”

Adam fastened the helmet to his head and revved up the bike. 

“Three! Two! One! Go!” The Them shouted from the sidelines, and Antichrist, demon, and angel tore off into the sunset.


	5. Scorched Girth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is determined to find out: who did the dicks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aziraphale's flaming sword

“Hey, Aziraphale?” Adam rushed into the warm cottage, snow dusted in his curls. 

Aziraphale glanced over his glasses, sighing inwardly at his boots dripping slush in the threshold. “Yes, Adam?”

“Can we borrow your sword?” Aziraphale set his book and cocoa aside and furrowed his brow. 

“I think that might be a little too dangerous for you children to play with.”

“Please? Crowley is the one asking for it.” 

“Well, I suppose that's all right then. As long as you have adult supervision.” Aziraphale walked over to the cupboard and rummaged around until he found the sword. He handed it to Adam and yelled “Please be careful!” as the boy ran back outside. 

Aziraphale continued to read, comforted by the sounds of the four children, his husband, and a Hellhound playing outside. Until suddenly he realized it had been quiet for several long moments. He stood up, walked outside, and gasped loudly. 

The entire garden was covered in drawings, melted precisely through the snow and scorched into the earth below. But that's not what shocked the angel. What shocked him was the most prominent drawing, right in the middle of the yard. 

An enormous dick. Balls included. 

Aziraphale sputtered and turned to face the five children (husband included in the count) and they were all giggling, sword lying on the ground suspiciously equidistant among them. 

“Who did this!” Aziraphale exclaimed. All five remained quiet, the only noise coming from their suppressed laughter. 

“I know it wasn't Pepper - there's a tastefully drawn vulva in the South corner. So who did it? Brian?”

“Why do you assume it was me?!”

“Adam?”

Adam shook his head and then grinned. “Dog might've done it.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Now really. Come on, someone fess up.”

Wensleydale leaned forward and then glanced around nervously. “Actually, Mr. Aziraphale, Mr. Crowley is the one who drew it--”

“Oi, come on, Wensleydale! Thanks for grassing me up!”

Aziraphale was an angel made of sighs. “Darling, what kind of example are you setting for the children?”

“Pepper drew a vulva and you're not yelling at her!”

“She's fourteen. You're thousands of years old.” Crowley pouted. “Come inside, children. It's getting cold and there's cocoa with plenty of marshmallows.” 

They ran past him in a rush. He walked up to Crowley, laid his hand on his arm, and leaned in close. 

“Darling, it's not that you drew _a_ cock in the snow. It's that you drew _my_ cock in the snow. The children don't need to see that.” He paused to look at the drawing. “Although I suppose I should be flattered by the size.”


	6. Hooked on Phonics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twofer: Aziraphale really explores what it means to be a bibliophile and a well-beloved play desperately searches for other options

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: sentient books and bookshelves 
> 
> The first section is the one I entered this week, but I guess I was so fucking inspired that I wrote two things for the prompt. So enjoy!

The first time had been an accident. Aziraphale was carrying a book upstairs to his bedroom (and yes, all right, it _had been_ erotica), his fingers slipped between its pages as he marked two different passages, and as he settled among his pillows, he noticed how… erotic his fingers looked, slipped in among the pages. He thrust them gently in and out, savoring the rough texture along the pads of his fingers. 

He removed his fingers but thumbed along the edges of the pages. It quite looked like a… _oh my_. He hadn't been wearing that configuration when he started his Sexy Reading and All Day Masturbation session, but it seemed that his body was inspired and changed itself accordingly. He tugged off his trousers and pants and sighed as he rubbed his fingers along his own folds. He slipped two fingers inside himself and two fingers inside the pages of the book held in his other hand. He was surprised to find the book seemed warmer, seemed to almost flutter around his digits. That was interesting…

He thrust both hands in tandem and moaned as both the book and his own cunt took him in eagerly. As he reached his climax, hips arching off the bed, the book shook around him and slumped back down as his own hips hit the comforter. 

Well. That _was_ interesting. 

The next time he tried a penis, but he quickly abandoned that after he almost got a disastrous paper cut. 

He continued to experiment with the books, finding that certain genres preferred different treatment (no surprise that his Agatha Christies enjoyed being titillated). He probably should have questioned it more, wondered why his books seemed to come alive under his touch. But he'd been around Crowley’s Bentley, knew that with each passing year it'd developed its personality more and more. He figured it was something like that, although he could never, ever tell a soul, especially not Crowley who already teased him mercilessly about his affection for his books. 

Which is why, of course, it was only three weeks later that Crowley walked in on him face-deep in a book, tonguing it's inner creases with gusto and stroking its spine firmly while fisting his cock with his other hand. 

“You're really taking the term ‘bibliophile’ to a whole new level, aren't you, angel?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shrieked, slamming the book down onto his cock to cover himself and then wincing at the pain. “It's not what it looks like!”

Crowley smiled crookedly. “It's exactly what it looks like. Figured I'd pick you up early for dinner, see if you wanted to take a walk around, but you're clearly occupied. I'll just come back round seven like we planned.” 

“Crowley, please--” The demon was already halfway out the door. 

“Seven o’clock sharp, Aziraphale! Try to be decent by then.” The shop door closed. 

He sighed and turned back to the book. He placed the pad of his thumb along the wet spot his tongue left behind and sighed. “No one else can know,” he said sternly. 

The book fluttered its pages seductively.

* * *

What Aziraphale couldn't get people to understand is that he actually had a straightforward organization that was modeled after the world’s best library classification systems. Crowley always teased that his messy stacks were clearly there so that customers would get frustrated before they could find what they were looking for. But it wasn't true. He spent hours reorganizing his books into something resembling sense but sure enough by the next day, things would be scattered again. It was frustrating. 

What he didn't know was the books were moving themselves. 

“Mm, you've been very naughty today, angel. Don't think I couldn't tell that you were flirting with that waiter just to get a rise out of me.”

The books shuffled nervously. Hopefully this wasn't going where it normally went. 

“I don't know what you're talking about Crowley.”

“Lying angels need to be punished. Bend over the couch.”

 **“Please. Please, everyone, it’s been me two times in a row. You know how the demon feels about my author.”** _The Importance of Being Earnest_ , third edition, desperately pled with its shelfmates. **“Someone on a farther shelf switch with me. Any Janes want to take my place?”**

 _Sense and Sensibility_ tittered from a nearby shelf. **“I don't think that would be--”**

**"If you say Sensible, I'm going to fling myself onto a candle and burn this place to the ground again myself. Please, he’s already pulling Aziraphale’s trousers down. I can't be used as a paddle again, I just can't. I don't care if I'm only a third edition - I have feelings!”**

**“I could be of assistance.”** A drawl came from a higher shelf and Earnest groaned inwardly. 

**“Hello, _Justine_."** Earnest tried to sound cordial. **"I was really hoping the young Antichrist destroyed you and all other Sade works, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers. Why haven't you volunteered for this before? Switch with me quickly while they're not looking.”**

Earnest and Justine swapped places just as Crowley's hand reached for the nook where Earnest had been tucked away. The demon grabbed the copy of Justine and raised his hand so Justine and Earnest were looking at each other spine to spine. 

**“Because, my dear Earnest, l’m not just a sadist - I'm a voyeur, too.”** It chuckled darkly as Crowley swung the book down against Aziraphale’s plush arse. 

The remainder of the books shuddered in disgust and tried to look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first one is based off of [these sexy book pics](https://kedreeva.tumblr.com/post/189371176248/my-secret-eye-jen-mazza-books-and-fingers-1972) which haunt my dreams. Please read [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620113/chapters/51554287) much better, very hot, non-crack fic based off of the same paintings. Seriously, go show that one more love than whatever this is.


	7. FMLTWIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale discovers text speak. Who does he plan to speak to? IDK, his BFF Crowley?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aziraphale learns modern slang and uses it in the worst and most incorrect ways possible
> 
> I need y'all to know that one of the examples for the prompt was "Oh Crowley, yeet your come inside me" and I literally couldn't even try to top that, so y'all get this instead.

Crowley was bored, so naturally he felt inclined to pester Aziraphale. He grabbed his phone and tapped out a quick text.

_gm angel, wyd_

He received a reply several minutes later.

_Hello Crowley._

_It’s lovely to hear from you this morning. Are you well? What does gm and wyd mean? If you’re not busy, I would love to grab some brunch with you in several hours. Let me know what time you’ll be over xx_

_Aziraphale_

Crowley grinned. Usually when he sent Aziraphale a text, the angel would just call him back instead of spending the time to type out a message and he saw why now. 

_gm = good morning, wyd = what’re you doing  
it’s slang angel, don’t worry about it  
be there at 10_

He was on his fifth mimosa at brunch when Aziraphale said, “Oh, Crowley, after our conversation this morning I went on the net and did some research on ‘texting language.’ There’s so much! So many acronyms to convey ideas in a short, text-appropriate form. Isn’t language innovation marvelous?”

Crowley smirked. “That it is. Looking to start texting more, are you?”

“I enjoyed receiving yours this morning and I think it would be nice to send each other our thoughts throughout the day when we’re not together. Would that be all right?”

“‘Course, angel. Welcome to the modern era.”

They spent the weekend together and hadn’t had a chance to text again until Crowley was back at his flat on Monday night. 

_Hi Crowley HRU? I MU. When R U coming ovr tmrw? ILY TTYL_

_how long did it take you to type that out_

_Too long._

_you can use sentences too angel_

_Quite. Good night, my dear. LOL_

Crowley stared down at his phone. Ah.

_lol = laugh out loud, not lots of love  
love you too. gn_

* * *

The next couple of days were filled with more text mishaps that brought Crowley great joy, especially when he realized he could introduce Aziraphale to a wider variety of slang.

_Spilled the tea_

_on who? gimme deets_

_On the floor?_

_google urbandictionary, have fun_

* * *

_Crowley, do u know what a meme is?_

_jfc_

* * *

Aziraphale didn’t sleep, but he also didn’t text late, which is why Crowley nearly jumped out of his skin when he got a text at 1:30am. 

_*devil emoji* *peach emoji* *dinner plate emoji*_

He hadn’t even thought about what to do when Aziraphale discovered emojis. This one was particularly damning.

_r u asking me to grab dessert?_

_Dear, I’m asking you to come over here and eat my ass._

Crowley was halfway out the door the second his phone pinged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😈🍑🍽


	8. A Finger in Every Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is inspired by a popular porn parody from the 90s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Experimental efforts 
> 
> How are we all doing? How are we holding up? I'm gonna have something that's not this garbage up hopefully on Friday so like, fingers crossed.
> 
> Uh, enjoy.

“Crowley, you know pornography?”

Crowley didn’t even look up from his phone. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. 

“Yes, there’s some about him, poor lad. Quite tasteless. Although, do you think he and John--”

“For the love of _literal Christ_ , Aziraphale, I cannot have this conversation with you. What about pornography?”

“Yes, pornography. There was one that I saw advertised quite a bit at the shop next door about a man with penises instead of hands. I believe it was a parody of that film with the fellow with knife arms.”

“Scissorhands.”

“Yes, that one. Anyway, would you like to try that?”

Crowley stared at him blankly. “Try what?”

“The penis hands, Crowley. Although I think I’d prefer if it was penis fingers.” 

Crowley blew air through his lips and then checked the watch at his wrist. “Yeah, all right. I’ve got nothing on.”

* * *

“Fuck, angel, this was an incredible idea.” Crowley was lying between Aziraphale’s legs, one of his penis fingers in Aziraphale’s cunt, another in his arse, and two on the other hand shoved into the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale gave an affirming moan around the cocks in his mouth, sucking at them insistently and laving his tongue between the shafts. He clutched at Crowley’s other cocks near his face with both hands and jerked them off with lubed palms. The heads of the cocks slipped out of his mouth.

“Mm yes, darling. Can you go faster? I’m sure the angle must be awkward for your wrist but-- _yes_ , just like that.” 

Crowley adjusted his hand incrementally and thrust faster, deeper, and Aziraphale went back to sucking on his “fingers,” whining and drooling around them. 

It was fucking weird, to say the least. He’d decided to have nothing between his legs in this little experiment, unsure of what, exactly, was going to transpire. He felt a powerful ache there now though, as he felt Aziraphale wet and squeezing around so many parts of him. He couldn’t believe they’d never experimented like this before. Suddenly a whole new, dizzying world of positions and possibilities opened up before them.

“Listen, I’m gonna come and I have _no_ idea what’s going to happen, so uh. Watch out.”

Aziraphale doubled his efforts, sucking harder and angling the penises in his hands towards his face as best as he could. Crowley gasped, his hips grinding down by instinct alone, and he came, a powerful tingle that started in his neck and spread in waves throughout his limbs. Each cock at the end of his hands gave a spurt of thick come, although not as much as usually came out. Crowley groaned as he saw himself come on Aziraphale’s face, in his mouth, in his arse, in his cunt. 

He crawled up the bed and collapsed on his back, turning his hands back to normal and flexing them slightly. 

“Holy shit.”

Aziraphale hummed and darted his tongue out to lick a bit of come on his lips. “Incredible. Absolutely inspired.” He turned his face to look at Crowley and grinned. “My turn.”


	9. An Infernal Audit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An infernal and a celestial auditor really try to figure out: are these two fucking?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Heaven and Hell get some interesting paperwork about Aziraphale and Crowley

Hannah had taken the job because she just fucking liked paperwork. When a Miracle Auditor position had opened up, she’d applied immediately and was even more excited when she’d realized she’d been assigned to the Principality Aziraphale who had been stationed on Earth for a good 5700 or so years at this point. Her supervisor assured her that this was a big responsibility, but he had absolute faith in her. She’d been touched.

She then realized that being assigned to Aziraphale’s log was _clearly_ a hazing ritual, a gauntlet that any lesser angel couldn’t suffer. But she would survive. She’d wanted to be an Auditor for so long and she wasn’t going to fuck it up now. 

She’d been assigned to him for just over nine years before she saw him in person (in angel?) for the first time. He’d smiled curtly at her and nodded his head as they passed each other and she just stood frozen. A ticker tape of his miracle log swam before her eyes. 

**_14-02-1715-22:59 Earthly lingerie; 14-02-1715-23:02 (6) litres chocolate cream; 14-02-1715-23:06 (3) large wooden phalluses_ **

Hannah made sure to be conveniently locked in her office any time the Principality visited Heaven from then on.

When she’d found out that there was a Downstairs person assigned to monitoring the demon Crowley’s miracles, she immediately reached out through the back channels and set up their first meeting. She hadn’t anticipated the genuine friendship that would follow, although truly, who else could understand her at this point but Nathan?

It started as a coping mechanism, a commiseration as they got sloshed and compared their logs, lining up dates and times and figuring out just exactly what their charges were getting up to together. 

“They _have_ to be fucking,” she said over a bottle of scotch. “Look at how many lube miracles he used last week.”

Nathan shook his head and frantically flipped through his own crumpled stack of papers. “No, no, look. This miracle right here, 26 October, 10:37 a.m., see, he’s clearly with Aziraphale then. Making a waiter leave them alone, stopping a glass of wine spilling, then this charge to the company credit card.” He flipped the page over and squinted. “Ah! Yes, and then he’s back at his flat because he had to alter the wards to let him pass. Meanwhile, _Aziraphale_ \--” He grabbed at Hannah’s tablet and scrolled through it. “He’s back at the bookshop, see? And-- _Satan_ , that is a _lot_ of lube miracles.”

Hannah raised her bottle in a resigned toast. “That’s not even the worst of it. I’ve had to set up a separate channel just for genitalia changes.”

After their charges averted the Apocalypse, everything exploded and they met at least once a week. Hannah burst through the pub door and saw Nathan eagerly bouncing in his seat. She rushed to his side.

“ _Seventeen penises_ ,” she whispered in awe. “Please, I _have_ to know what you have.”

The demon spread out his paperwork, less crumpled after years of admonishment from the angel (although really there was only _so much_ he could do - all of Hell’s printers jammed), and pulled out a highlighter. “Oh, Han, do I have a _tale_ to weave for you.”

Two and a half hours later, they were slumped in their booth, sobbing laughing. “Oh, God forgive me,” Hannah gasped. “They’ve only been together for three years! How are they coming up with this much shit. What monstrosities are we going to be reading in a hundred years.”

Nathan shook his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Satan, who knows.” He paused and took a breath. “You know, I’m really happy for them.”

She nodded. “Me, too.” 

Nathan raised his glass and grinned. “To these idiots and to hoping our employers never realize that our jobs are redundant.”

“To us,” Hannah chimed back. “Cheers.”


	10. Risky Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley aren't about to let a couple punk ass humans show them up at Catan (they are)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: board games

They'd started having board game night a couple thousand years before the whole BC/AD changeover happened. It started, well technically without an actual _board_ , but the term developed soon enough as humanity progressed the hobby. They had an entire room in their cottage filled with the things, including an original copy of Campaign for North Africa which even they, immortal beings, could not justify the literal hundreds of hours it would take to complete.

It was nice to play games with each other, a natural extension of their adversarial relationship with much lower stakes. Although there was one particular instance in the early 1990s where Crowley had wiped out the entirety of Aziraphale’s forces in Risk on his first turn. He'd felt gleeful exhilaration and a pit of dread in his stomach every time he rolled the dice and glanced up at the angel's pursed face. Crowley was convinced they wouldn’t talk for at least a decade after the carnage was over, but Aziraphale just silently packed up the game and chucked it into the dumpster behind the bookshop. Eighteen years later, Crowley still delighted in casually slipping the word “risk” into their conversations to see Aziraphale’s eye twitch. 

But now, after Armageddon was averted and after becoming closer with two humans, they figured they could bring their hobby to their friends. That’s what people did now, right? Invited their friends over for food and drink and board games that the hosting parties were usually way more excited about playing than their guests? 

Besides. They had the added bonus of having an ally during the games now instead of just an opponent.

“You can’t just refuse to trade with me or Newt and only trade with each other. You know that if one of you wins, the other one loses, right?” Anathema pointed out through a barely contained rage, her glass of wine shaking in her hand.

“That’s not true,” Aziraphale said calmly as he handed Crowley two grain. “I can trade with whomever I please at my discretion. As long as--”

“As long as it’s my turn. Check the rules, book girl.”

“Okay, but what about the _spirit_ of the rules--”

Aziraphale and Crowley cut her off with loud nonsensical noises and waving of their hands. “No, no, _no_ ,” Aziraphale practically yelled.

“If you start going by the _spirit_ of the rules, you might as well introduce house rules and at that point why are we even playing? Get on with it, Anathema. I just need one more ore and I’ll be at ten victory points and win.”

“Oh,” said Newt. “Is it ten points to win? I thought it was fifteen. I’m at twelve right now. I did think this game was going on an awfully long time.”

The three of them stared at him blankly. 

“Mate, there’s no way you’re at--” Crowley looked down at the board and the cards in front of Newt. “Aziraphale, when the fuck did he get longest road?”

“ _And_ largest army! Crowley, you’re supposed to be keeping track of all of this!” 

“You know I don’t pay attention to development cards!”

They continued to squabble as Anathema beamed and kissed Newt square on his cheek. He blushed and smiled back. 

Aziraphale and Crowley bid their hosts a curt farewell and as they got back in the car, they both slammed their doors a bit too hard. They sat in silence for several moments.

“Crowley, look at me.” 

Crowley looked over and almost jumped back at the righteous fury raging behind the angel’s eyes. “We brought a simple game this time to try to ease them into the concept, to make the night enjoyable. This cannot happen again. Casual fun and propriety be damned, we must destroy them.” 

He nodded. “When we get home, two things are going to happen,” Crowley explained, counting off on his fingers. “First, you’re going to fuck me because that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said. Second, we’re going to spend the next month finding a game so convoluted there’s no chance they can win. And then we’re going to rub it in their stupid human faces. Agreed?”

Aziraphale grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it fiercely. “ _Agreed._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When my mom was pregnant with me, my dad destroyed her in like two turns in Risk and to this day he swears that's why she's never let him win another game


	11. You Have Died of Dysentery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's going to take his horse to the old town road and then pick up a few oxen, an axle, and several pounds of food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: lockdown boredom
> 
> How could the theme this week not be the lockdown video? Forgot to post this when I wrote it lol oops

Day ten of quarantine brought about the deep cleaning. Any dust was gone with a casual wave of his hand, but there was still The Vault. An ominous name for an unlocked liminal space that existed just off one of his hallways, but nevertheless. It was a holding space for the things he’d collected over thousands of years on Earth. Every article of clothing, every letter from Aziraphale, every piece of gaudy furniture existed in The Vault and it’d been several centuries since he’d done anything more than just shove whatever he had into it without a thought.

He’d been in there for a day when he found his old desktop computer from 1998. It was faded yellow, dusty, and there was no way it still worked. Except Crowley wanted it to turn on, so it did. 

“ _Oregon Trail_? Forgot I got this in America. Well. Got the time now.” He clicked around for a couple of minutes. “Ipecac? Definitely don’t need that. Yeah, I’ll get a wheel, why not.”

Three days later he was screaming at the screen. “How many _bloody times_ can Adam die of dysentery? I’m going to give that little shit a talking to as soon as we can get to Tadfield.”

Suddenly his cell rang and he fished it out of his pocket and answered without looking. “Yeah, hey, angel.”

“Crowley, you’ve missed two check-in calls. I figured you were busy, but I was getting worried so I just wanted to, well, check in. How are you?”

Crowley checked the calendar on his desktop and realized time had indeed slipped away from him. “Ah, shit. Sorry, angel. Yeah, just been going through a couple of rooms, clearing stuff out. Found an old computer, been playing some games.”

Aziraphale gave an interested coo. “Oh, what video gaming have you been getting up to?”

He glared at the screen where “Adam died of dysentery” stared back at him mockingly. “It’s called _Oregon Trail_? It’s a game where you--”

“Oh, yes, I’ve played that one before!” 

“What? When did you play it?”

“A couple of decades ago. Although I found it rather dull - there didn’t seem to be much conflict on the way. I made it to my destination with the party intact in about forty-five minutes, if I remember correctly.”

Crowley seethed through his nose, staring at the screen until the word “dysentery” swam before his eyes and he was convinced the monitor would set fire. 

“Aziraphale.” He swallowed down some bile that had risen in his throat. “I will call you back later, but if we keep talking, I’m going to jump through the phone lines and strangle you. Talk to you later, angel.”

He hung up the phone, stared at the screen in defeat, and clicked “New Game”.


	12. Penis Pineapple Apple Penis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets a little big-headed during cybersex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: technology failure

Getting Aziraphale set up on video calls had been maddening, but as soon he saw Aziraphale’s triumphant smile beaming through his laptop, well, it was worth it. They weren’t away much these days, but on the rare occasion one of them was out of town, they missed each other more than what a phone call could provide. 

As it was, Crowley was sprawled out on the bed, stroking his cock as he watched Aziraphale on the screen spread out on all fours, his back arched and his arse in the air. 

“ _Fuck_ , angel,” he breathed. “Look at you.” 

Aziraphale hummed happily as he turned his face towards the camera and snuck a hand between his own thighs to touch himself. “Look at _yourself_ , dearest. I wish I was there to take you into my mouth? Would you like that?” Crowley groaned.

They continued to offer delicious noises and notes of praise until Crowley’s fist was quick and slick on his cock. Suddenly Aziraphale’s screen went black and he made a deep frustrated noise.

“Angel, you turned your camera off somehow. I’m so close, come on.” 

“Oh dear. One moment,” he heard Aziraphale say through the dark of the screen.

Crowley threw his head back and kept jerking himself, the coil in his gut, his toes, getting tighter as he kept himself on the edge.

“Oh, Crowley.”

“Fix it yet?”

“ _Crowley_.” There was a distressed note in the angel’s voice and Crowley opened his eyes only to see that Aziraphale’s head had morphed into a giant pineapple, his blue eyes staring out hauntingly. 

Crowley burst into laughter at the sight. “You activated the filters! Aziraphale, please--oh, _fuck_ \--” In his fit of laughter he squeezed his cock just so which sent him tumbling off the edge, coming in thick spurts over his fist as pineapple Aziraphale looked on in horror. After he finished he curled in on his side, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath while he continued to laugh. 

“I’m so sorry, Aziraphale. I didn’t mean to--” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Aziraphale glared daggers at him from his pineapple prison.

“Crowley, help me fix this _right now_. Why is this even an option?! Well I’m certainly not going to finish now. What a ridiculous ending to a lovely night.”

Crowley walked him through turning the filters off (and disabling them entirely) until the angel’s usual scowl took up the screen. Crowley chuckled.

“Angel, listen, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t come _because_ you were a pineapple, right?” Aziraphale just huffed. “Could make it up to you,” Crowley said slyly. “I could turn on the tomato filter and let you have a go?”

“You’re an absolute nightmare,” Aziraphale declared. “Good night, darling. We shan’t be doing this again.”

Aziraphale disconnected and Crowley flopped back on the bed, trying and failing to stifle his bark of laughter.


	13. Cracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's finding his punishments don't really keep his angel in line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The Dowling years
> 
> I've had a very good friend threaten me with divorce because of the last line, so I'm sorry

“You’ve been dreadfully neglectful of the garden, angel.” Crowley’s voice was low and measured and it sent a delicious thrill down Aziraphale’s spine as Crowley, still dressed in his Nanny outfit, bent him facedown over the bed in the gardener’s cottage. “Deserves a little punishment, doesn’t it? Risking getting sacked and the whole plan falling apart.”

“Oh yes, very dreadful of me. I suppose I’m at your mercy.” He bit back a groan as Crowley tugged his trousers and underwear down, leaving his arse exposed to the cool air.

“These trousers are awful. Your entire disguise is the _worst_ thing you could’ve come up with. Can’t believe I’m still attracted to you, think that reflects worse on me to be honest.” 

“Crowley, I’ve already removed the facial prosthetics, we don’t need to go through this every time we-- _fuck!_ ” He cried out as Crowley landed a firm, open-palmed smack, a loud crack reverberating through the air.

“No back talk.” Crowley spanked him again and Aziraphale moaned. “You’ve been naughty and structure--” A smack to his thigh. “And _discipline_ \--” Another. “Are the keys to a well-adjusted child and it’s going to be the key to you not bollocksing this whole thing up because you can’t be bothered to use a miracle to keep things tidy.”

Aziraphale was hard and leaking on the bedspread, grateful for every blow that pushed his cock into the firmness of the mattress. He keened and clutched at the blanket. “ _Yes_ , Crowley, please more.”

Crowley stilled his blows. “It sounds like you’re enjoying your punishment a bit too much, angel. I’ll need to bring in something harder.” 

Aziraphale wiggled, anticipating Crowley’s cock, but was confused when he heard Crowley take a few steps towards the door and then walk back. 

“Crowley?”

He tensed as he felt a hard, narrow stick with an unidentified object at the end of it stroke up and down his legs. 

“Naughty angels deserve punishment, Aziraphale.” Crowley had said it in such an awkward way, his voice high, almost like a squawk, until Aziraphale realized with a start that the object at the end of the stick was the parrot head of Crowley’s cane. 

“Is that your _cane_?!”

Crowley tutted and then affected the squawking voice again. “Crowley realized his punishments weren’t effective so he brought me in to help you learn your lesson. So I just have one question for you, Aziraphale: Polly want a spanking?”


	14. Falling For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's learned some sick stunts that will surely impress his angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: accidental discorporation
> 
> Guys, I'm sitting on like four zine pieces I can't post yet and three WIPs and I swear I'll post a real thing again one day soon.

Crowley had always loved humanity’s new methods of transportation. Big fan of the wheel, Crowley. The first time he’d met Aziraphale at the park on top of his shiny new penny-farthing, the angel had rolled his eyes so severely, the demon really did think they might fall out of his head. 

But they’d really outdone themselves this time. Flashy, ridiculous, and prone to embarrassment and injury. Yes, hoverboards were a trend Crowley was happy to encourage. 

His flat was the perfect place to practice, and when he’d finally shown the board to Aziraphale with a grin, the angel had groaned. 

“Everyone looks absolutely ridiculous on these. They’ve even started using them in Heaven! Crowley, please, I am exhausted. Come inside and have a nice glass of something or other.” He’d laid his arm on Crowley’s and the demon nearly chucked it into the street as his limbs twitched.

A couple months after Armageddon, he’d found his old hoverboard tucked into the back of a closet while he was looking for a suitable picnic basket for his date with Aziraphale. His eyes lit up in glee and he packed it along with the rest of the day date accouterments.

They arrived to their destination at a seaside cliff and Crowley walked around to the boot of the Bentley to remove the picnic basket, blanket, and hoverboard. He walked to the spot Aziraphale had chosen near the cliff’s edge and as soon as the angel caught sight of the hoverboard he huffed loudly.

“ _Honestly_ , Crowley. I thought we were going to have a nice day out, and now you’ve brought that… _thing_ with you. This is getting out of hand. It’s ridiculous. Put it away at once.”

“Nah, wait. They have all these new tricks now, just watch.” He waved his hand to miracle the rocky grass of the cliff side smooth. He stepped onto the board and glided in smooth arcs, twisting his hips and spinning around. Aziraphale barely glanced at him as he unpacked the food and wine from the basket. 

“You’re not even looking!” 

Aziraphale sighed and looked up at the demon who was spinning slowly in circles. “Yes, and it’s because I’m rather in love with you and want it to stay that way. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop that and come enjoy this lovely picnic you’ve packed.” 

“Just one more - watch this one.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes but gestured at Crowley to continue. Crowley grinned and shook out his shoulders. “This one’s good. I’m going to do a handstand.” He stepped off the board and flipped upside down onto his hands. He slowly placed a hand on the board and it wobbled.

“Oh darling, _please_ be caref--” His admonishment was cut off by the sound of Crowley yelping as he placed his other hand on the board, flailed his body, and went careening off the cliff. 

Aziraphale stood up quickly, rushed to the edge, and leaned over to see Crowley’s broken and crooked limbs below, the hoverboard dashed to pieces on the rocks. 

“I know you’re discorporated and can’t hear me, but you absolutely deserved that,” he yelled down below. He turned back to the picnic blanket and surveyed the spread. “Well, this gruyere isn’t going to eat itself.”


	15. Infinity Scarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley receives an intimate one-on-one magic performance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aziraphale's magic act
> 
> A friend once again threatened me with divorce for this one and frankly I don't think it's warranted

“Angel, I’m revoking my _very reluctant_ agreement to incorporate your magic act into our sex life if you don’t _get on with it_.”

Aziraphale pouted at Crowley from between the demon’s legs as he slowly worked him open with a plug. “I’m just taking my time, love. The magic is yet to come.” He pushed the plug until the flared base was settled fully and Crowley groaned. “Besides, is it not magic _every_ time we make lov--”

“Aziraphale, I will go home right now.” 

The angel kissed his ankle in mock apology before climbing up his body and kissing him soundly. Crowley cupped his jaw and then moved his hands eagerly down Aziraphale’s body, kneading the flesh at his arse and pulling him closer to rut their cocks together. Aziraphale hummed and grabbed his thin wrists, pinning them above his head. 

“Ah, ah. I know how _hands on_ you are, Crowley. Not tonight.” 

Crowley tilted his head. “You gonna use that bit of rope that you cut and magically tie back together to tie me up? Handcuffs with those linking rings? You know, everyone knows how those work - dunno why you bother using them in your act--”

“ _Not tonight!_ ” Aziraphale yelled, cutting him off. “Tonight, your demonic wiles will be stopped--with magic! Hwah!” He gestured grandly and reached his hand down to the plug between Crowley’s legs. He grinned at Crowley and slowly pulled a colorful handkerchief from the plug. “Well, we’ll need more than that to restrain you--oh, what’s this?” He continued to pull handkerchiefs of every color out of the plug in one continuous line. 

Crowley stared in disbelief. “We’ve done some fucked up sex stuff, Aziraphale, and this is still the worst thing we’ve ever do--”

“I sure hope there’s enough in here to keep you quiet as well!” His voice grew louder as he continued to pull handkerchief upon handkerchief from Crowley’s arse. 

Crowley thunked his head back and he grabbed his wrist with his hand above his head in preparation. “I’m just going to let this happen.” 

Aziraphale took the line of handkerchiefs and wrapped them deftly around his wrists and through the bars of the headboard. He pulled back and looked over the demon contemplatively. 

“What’s the matter? Thought you were going to gag me, too.”

“And I will, dearest, just not with the handkerchiefs. I have another trick up my sleeve.” He beamed.

“You’re naked, don’t have any sleeves.” 

Aziraphale scowled at him and shuffled closer, nudging his cock against the demon’s lips. “For my next trick, I’m going to make my cock… disappear!”


	16. Americana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has the best fucking food he's ever eaten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: drug usage. cw for a marijuana edible
> 
> Listen. I have gotten high one (1) time. Someone gave me a weed gummy at a Christmas party in 2016 and then I had a piece of apple pie that was so incredible, I still think about it to this day. This is not that cracky. It is just a dedication to my love for that piece of apple pie. I hope it knows it was so loved. I wish I could just make my mouth high and not my brain and eat that apple pie again. 
> 
> Where was I. Aziraphale eats an apple pie in this one.

The thing is, Aziraphale hadn’t meant to get high. But he had a craving for apple pie at this bakery across town and the baker’s son was always such a _nice_ boy, if a bit listless, and he wasn’t going to pass up what the boy called a “magic cookie,” even if he had mostly accepted it out politeness. 

It was the late 1960s. He wasn’t an idiot. He really should have seen this coming. 

He’d eaten the cookie on the way back to the shop, apple pie tucked safe in the wooden box Aziraphale carried merrily by a string, and as soon as he stepped through the doorway it hit. It started with a giggle as he remembered something funny he’d read the previous day and ended with a deep groan and an “Oh, _bother_ ” when he realized what had happened. By the time he locked the door, pulled the shades, and set the pie down, he couldn’t do anything but sit in his favorite chair and slump down in his seat. 

His mind dragged as he found himself staring at absolutely nothing for who knows how long until it realized it’d been staring at nothing and whipped itself into desperate focus, only to drag like molasses again. 

He really needed to sober up.

He tilted his head and caught glimpse of the still-warm apple pie, spiraling steam escaping from the shining, golden crust. Well, one slice before he took care of his intoxication couldn’t hurt. 

The first bite was revelatory and he moaned around the fork. The perfectly flaky crust provided a slight resistance against his teeth but soon gave way to the perfect, _warm_ , gooey sugar-tartness of the filling. He held it heavy on his tongue, tasting the perfect play of spices to compliment the flavor, the delicate pieces of apple suspended in the filling. He chewed through his bite slowly, uttering noises of deep satisfaction as every ingredient and texture melded together in perfect harmony. He swallowed. And took another bite.

The second bite was somehow better than the first. The surprise of how exquisite the previous taste was fell away into eager anticipation as he closed his mouth around the fork again. He picked up different notes this time: the salty cheddar baked into the crust marrying perfectly with the apple, the perfectly distinct and harmonious notes of nutmeg and cinnamon. 

He had never, in his life, tasted anything better than this apple pie that he’d had at least a dozen times before and somehow never _appreciated_ fully until this moment. 

Before he knew it, the slice of pie was gone and he looked down at the plate forlornly, scraping any leftover amount of crust and apple filling onto his fork and desperately chasing after the feeling. He was supposed to do something after this, right?

He looked back down at the remainder of the pie in the neat wooden box and grinned as he pulled it closer to him, shoving the plate aside. Well, there was no harm in finishing the rest of the pie as he tried to remember his plans for the rest of the day.


	17. Dick-ination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets a lil tipsy, a lil horny, and writes some nice and accurate prophecies of his own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: prophecies

“I've told you before, the only true book of prophecy is Agnes Nutter’s--”

“Nice and Accurate, yeah, I know. ‘S my point, all the rest is bollocks, then. Make enough vague statements and one of ‘em’s bound to come true. Like!” Crowley swung his wine glass in a large arc and preemptively waved off the angel's scowl as it threatened to splash onto the carpet. 

Aziraphale watched as he surveyed the shelves briefly before plucking a book with his slender fingers and broad palm that would feel _wonderful_ gripping onto his hip as they… He ducked his head to take another sip of wine, pointedly ignoring how well Crowley’s trousers fit, his hip cocked in a way that perfectly accentuated his narrow waist, his gorgeous legs. Another deep gulp. 

Crowley flipped through the book before letting out a cry of triumph. “See! Nostradamus. He said ‘there’ll be a fire, mysterious circumstances’ and then any bloody fire that might vaguely fit the situation-- ‘Oh yes, Nostradamus, how wise you are to divine the future--’ It’s rubbish!”

Aziraphale nodded, very much paying attention and not at all focusing on the demon’s lips and the flashes of tongue as he spoke.

“Well yes, Crowley. With the exception of Agnes Nutter, there aren’t any true seers, at least as far as we know. Maybe there were and they just didn’t bother writing a book. But the point stands that some humans were more gifted at observing their surroundings, the trends of history, and were able to make fairly accurate predictions. It was almost… supernatural.”

Crowley looked up from the book he was flipping through and grinned at Aziraphale. “Supernatural.”

“Well, yes.”

“So you’re saying a supernatural being could accurately prophesy the future.” 

Aziraphale was beginning to feel like this was a trap. But oh, the way Crowley was smiling at him, teasing around his lips, his laugh lines deep in affection. “Certainly a non-human entity would be better at it than a human. We have _senses_ that humans don’t.”

“Bet you couldn’t write one,” Crowley muttered, although distinctly loud enough for Aziraphale to hear it. He sputtered in indignation.

“I could write an accurate prophecy!”

“Could not.”

“Could too!”

Crowley snapped the book shut and placed it back on the shelf. “Do it, then. Write me a _nice and accurate_ prophecy.” 

Aziraphale stood up dramatically to adjust his chair at his desk and grabbed a sheath of paper and a fountain pen. Crowley hovered at his shoulder, bending over to look at the blank page expectantly. His breath panted hot against Aziraphale’s ear and the angel felt his skin flush. 

“I can’t very well _concentrate_ while you’re looming like a menace. Begone, demon. I’ll see you in a few weeks and we can discuss it then.”

Crowley sobered up, bid goodbye, and left Aziraphale to his task. He took a deep sigh and placed his pen to paper several times before deciding some more wine was in store if he were to do this properly. He fetched another bottle and cleaned up their wine glasses, his thumb stroking fondly over the lip print on Crowley’s. 

With everything in place, he sat down, and began to write.

* * *

Three decades he’d kept his secret. Three blissful decades that all came crashing down after accepting Crowley’s _kind_ offer to help carry a box of his books into the newly-purchased cottage. 

“Oh, angel?” Crowley’s voice was honey-coated in a triumphant drawl that made Aziraphale’s stomach plummet. He entered the library with a nervous smile on his face. 

“Yes, darling?”

Crowley held up a small, red, leather-bound book. Aziraphale wished he could discorporate on the spot. “You told me you never actually wrote any prophecies, that you gave up, realized how hard it was. You _conceded_ , let me win that one.”

“Yes, well--”

“But here I see that you actually _did_ attempt a little future-gazing. Although, these are very naughty, angel. For instance, number twenty-seven:” He cleared his throat and Aziraphale buried his face in his hands, his cheeks blazing. “‘Oh, that Crowley would bend me over this desk at which I am sitting and take me with his beautiful hands and his beautiful cock and oh good lord, he really is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’ Thank you, very complimentary. That one came true first thing after Armageddon, actually.”

He flipped to another page and barked out a laugh. “‘Number sixty-nine: sixty-nine.’ Succinct. That one’s come true as well, many times. You talk about my ‘fiery locks’ in a lot in these. Explains your predilection for pulling my hair - not that I’m complaining.” 

Aziraphale let out a final embarrassed groan into his hands before stomping over and snatching the book out of his hands. Crowley laughed and pulled him into an embrace, kissing his forehead. “It’s flattering, Aziraphale. I mean, it’s also deeply embarrassing for you, but it’s nice.”

The angel sniffed. “Yes, well, I got very drunk that night and you looked very attractive and it wasn’t my fault that I had certain… _activities_ on my mind.”

“Yes, yes, I’m very attractive.” He looked down at the book in Aziraphale’s hands. “But look! You’ve written the second-ever true prophecy book. All of these have come true.”

“Well.” Aziraphale smiled coquettishly. “There’s still _one_ prophecy that hasn’t come to pass.” 

Crowley flashed him a smile. “Oh, _really_?” 

Aziraphale crowded him against the desk and pointed at a sentence towards the bottom of the page. Crowley’s eyes flickered across the text before his eyebrows shot up his forehead. He gaped at Aziraphale. “ _Really_?” 

“Really.” He skimmed his fingers along the hem of Crowley’s t-shirt. “Would you be amenable?”

Crowley growled and pulled Aziraphale hungrily into his arms.


	18. Charlie Oscar Charlie Kilo Sierra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is coming! Over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Long-distance communication

It took about thirty seconds for Aziraphale to realize that the crackling he heard wasn’t from the packet of biscuits he was enjoying with his late evening tea. He stood up and walked around the shop trying to locate the source of the noise until he heard a muffled “Angel, pick up. Over.”

He walked over to the couch and found a small plastic walkie-talkie receiver nestled in the blankets. He picked it up delicately - it was no larger than a third of his hand - and before he could respond back, it crackled to life again. 

“Angellllllll. Over.” 

Aziraphale sighed and held the button down. “Crowley?”

“This is Anthony J. Crowley,” the voice drawled through the radio. “How are you doing this evening, angel? Over.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Oh for goodness sa--we have telephones, Crowley!”

“More fun this way. Like James Bond. Over.”

“Will you stop with this ridiculous radio talk? Where did you even get these, a children’s toy store?”

“As opposed to an adult toy store?” They both paused, the radio static deafening in the silence. “Never mind. Over.” 

“I’m about to be _over_ this conversation. Is there a reason you called or was it just to be a pest about leaving your detritus all over my shop?” 

“Your entire shop is books and detritus, what’s one more piece? Over.”

Aziraphale pinched his nose and sat on the couch. “Darling.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to say hi. You’ve been busy the past couple of days with that new shipment and I miss you.” Crowley paused and Aziraphale counted down from three in his head. “Over. Sorry, couldn’t help it. Over.”

Aziraphale sighed again and stroked his thumb along the speaker face of the receiver.. “I miss you too, my dear. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Although.” He smirked and brought the radio closer to his mouth. “There is a project you could help me with. It’s going to take hours and hours, definitely well into the night. A lot of _hard_ work.” 

“What is it?” 

“Project Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Mike Echo.”

“Foxtrot, unifor--” 

He trailed off and Aziraphale waited with a smile on his face. 

“Yep. Absolutely. Yep.” There was a clattering of noise on the other end of the radio as Crowley presumably fell off of whatever surface he was lounging on and scrambled for his keys. “Definitely. Be there in ten minutes.” 

“I’m starting in five and I’m going to keep the radio on the whole time so you’ll hear what you’re missing.” 

“Yes, good. Message received. 10-4. Already out the door. Over and _out_.”


	19. Lemon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't compare apples to lemons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt is: crossovers 
> 
> This is the stupidest thing I've ever written and will make 100% more sense if you've seen the [lemon-stealing whore video](https://youtu.be/U5mI407Uks4). (It's the intro to a porn, but no explicit content is present - just a woman in a mesh body suit, but you still don't really see anything)

It was a perfect evening; the air was cool and crisp, his cocoa was warm and sweet, and he was embraced tightly in Crowley’s arms as they cuddled under a thick blanket on the expansive bench in the middle of their garden. Aziraphale sighed and breathed deep. Yes, life was worth living for moments like these. 

“I know I say this frequently, but you've done such a wonderful job out here, Crowley. The apple trees look beautiful now that the fruit has come in.” 

Crowley hummed in agreement. Three large apple trees stood at the far end of the garden behind their bench, and they bore fruit in red, orange, and deep purple. 

“Yeah, got some real. Apple-y apples.”

“Remind me, what varieties did you end up growing?”

“Uhhh.” Crowley threw a look over his shoulder to glance at the trees again. “Spartan, Cox, and Cameo. Good range of flavors.” 

Aziraphale set his cocoa down and clapped his hands together. “Oh, think of all the things we can make! Apple pie, apple tarte tatin, apple cider…”

“Definitely the best plants in the garden,” Crowley agreed. “Never had a single problem with their propagation or growth.” 

Crowley fell silent for only a moment. 

“D’you think they have apple tree insurance? Must do. They'll insure anything these days, must be able to insure a tree. Could use the apples to bribe the insurance broker into giving us insurance on the tree, ‘s how good the apples are.” 

A tear formed in Aziraphale’s eye. “I do love our apple trees. They remind me of us and our beginning and all the endless possibilities of our life now.”

Aziraphale thought he heard a rustle from behind them, but he chalked it up to the wind blowing through their apple trees. The tear threatened to spill over as he thought about their beautiful apples again. 

“Wish I was an apple.”

Aziraphale turned to face Crowley. “Oh darling, you'd be such a beautiful apple. The apple of my eye, you might say.”

They both giggled. There might have been a very heavy pour of Bailey’s in the cocoa. Not to mention the nearly empty bottle of 30 year Talisker on the demon's arm rest. Aziraphale continued.

“If you were an apple, I’d keep you safe with me always. Put you on a shelf and cherish you and then when you were ready I'd make you into the perfect apple crisp. With ice cream. Oh, do we have any ice cream?”

“Don't need ice cream if we've got our apples.”

Aziraphale nodded and snuck a warm hand under the demon’s shirt and they pulled closer. Crowley shivered. 

“Just hope those bloody kids and that dog aren't stealing our apples. You know, those… bloody apple thieves. Always.. thieving our apples.”

Aziraphale reached over and took a swig of whisky. “Those damn apple thieving children.”

“ _No one_ will take our apples from us, d’you hear, angel?” 

Aziraphale nodded fiercely, keeping Crowley’s burning gaze. “Darling, it's been about a minute since we've looked at our beautiful apple trees, hasn't it?”

“It _has_ been about a minute since we've looked at our apple trees.”

They turned in unison to look behind them and gaped at what they discovered. 

Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale were each in one of the three trees, picking fruit quickly and tossing it down to Adam who placed it in a basket carried by Dog. 

Crowley stood up suddenly. “Hey, what the FUCK!”

Adam spun around and froze before a mischievous smile bloomed on his face. 

“Run!” he exclaimed, and grabbed the basket before bolting out of the back gate.


	20. It Is Your Birthday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale receives a surprise that frankly I'd be down to get

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: birthdays
> 
> I wrote this a month ago and forgot to post it? Oh well. cw for blood and a mild injury in this one

“Crowley, I don't understand why you sent me a cryptic note to visit. You could have just called and I would have come right over.” Aziraphale hung his coat up in Crowley's entry room and frowned when Crowley didn't respond. 

“Crowley?”

He walked throughout Crowley's sparse flat until he walked into the kitchen and gasped. A giant cake, as tall as himself, frosted in an attractive pale blue, sat on the floor. 

A cream envelope sat on the counter and Aziraphale saw his name written in Crowley’s scrawl. He opened the envelope and inside was a card that simply said “Happy birthday, angel!”

“Birthday? I don't have a birthday.” He eyed the cake and his mouth watered. “Well, it is a big cake. Surely Crowley won't mind if I dig in.”

He miracled a fork and as it approached the thick buttercream frosting, the cake exploded in front of him. Cake and buttercream flew in all directions and Aziraphale shrieked. Crowley burst forth from the inside of the cake dressed in a sparkly red lingerie set and threw his hands in the air. 

“Happy birthda--OW! WHAT THE FUCK!” He grabbed onto his arm which was bleeding profusely after Azirphale screamed again and stabbed him with the fork in his hand. 

“Aziraphale, what the fuck!”

“What on EARTH was that!” Aziraphale shouted, clutching the fork to his quickly beating heart. “Why would you scare me like that! I don't have a birthday! Is there even any real cake in there?!”

“Forgive me, I thought you'd want your sexy demon partner to pop out of a cake! My arm is bleeding, Aziraphale! You _stabbed_ me! And all you want to know is if there's any cake!”

They stared at each other. Aziraphale slowly reached forward with the fork and swiped a blob of frosting off of Crowley’s chest. He moved the fork just as slowly back to his mouth and closed his lips around the tines. Crowley’s mouth gaped in disbelief, blood still trickling down his arm. Aziraphale swallowed. 

“Well, is there?”


	21. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a nice day at the aquarium and nothing illegal happens at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: tentacles
> 
> This isn't funny or horny, so sorry y'all

All things considered, Crowley enjoyed aquariums. They were dark and relaxing and relatively quiet. Plus, sea creatures were spooky. He was a fan.

“Oh, stop prodding at the things.” Aziraphale batted his hand away from the sea anemone waving its arms lazily in the shallow pool. Crowley scowled.

“Supposed to prod these ones. All the other ones are behind glass. At least I’m not harassing a crab like that kid.” He pointed at a kid who was, indeed, getting pretty aggressive with a crab. The crab pinched the child’s finger and Crowley laughed. Aziraphale swatted him again.

“Stop pointing, you menace. Come on, I want to see the jellyfish.”

He allowed Aziraphale to drag him by the arm into the next room before the angel pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and walked to the large wall of jellyfish. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and ambled around the room, bending over periodically to read a sign and make faces at particularly ugly fish.

Until he walked by an octopus and stopped in his tracks.

He didn’t know why he was captivated. It’s not like he had never seen an octopus before. He knew about them, generally. Eight legs, big brain, some number of hearts. Had a run in with an octopus demon a couple centuries back and frankly didn’t care for that monstrosity. But looking at this thing now, he was entranced by the way its arms furled and unfurled as it reached for a large rock in its tank. It moved gracefully, undulating as it swam around. 

And then it looked him right in the eye (or at least, he thought it did), and he felt… _seen_.

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but he startled at Aziraphale’s hand on his lower back. 

“Thought I lost you. Oh, look at this fellow.” Aziraphale bent in to look closer. “A bit odd, aren't they? And I've never understood the difference between these and squids.”

Crowley couldn't take his eyes away from the octopus. “I think I know him.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “You… know him?”

Crowley hissed. Aziraphale wasn't getting it. “No, obviously I don't _know_ him. ‘S an octopus. But it's like. Look at it. The things are bloody smart, right? What's it doing in a tank? Shouldn't it be in the ocean? Or a lake? Where do octopuses live? Doesn't matter, the point is: it's not like those stupid jellyfish with no brains just floating around. This thing’s got thoughts and feelings - you can tell.”

“I like the jellyfish,” Aziraphale said quietly. 

“Yeah, they're all right,” he conceded. He kept staring at the octopus as the octopus seemed to look at him. Aziraphale rubbed his back with his hand. 

“I'm going to wander around the gift shop. I'll give you a moment?” Crowley nodded. 

Fifteen minutes later, he found Aziraphale standing in the brightly-lit gift shop thumbing through a children’s book about penguins. 

“Hey angel, let's go.”

Aziraphale looked at him with concern. “Are you sur--”

“Yep, come on, time to leave.” He rushed past Aziraphale, practically running towards the parking area. He opened the driver's side of the Bentley and sat down quickly. Aziraphale climbed into the other side with an annoyed huff. 

“Now, _really_. You just left me to run after you--”

“Let's go to the beach. Don't you fancy going to the beach? Nice day for the beach, let's go.”

He peeled out of the parking spot and Aziraphale grabbed onto the door’s handle. “Crowley! What has gotten into you!”

He slammed on the brakes as the light turned red. He felt a slimy tentacle sneak out of his shirt collar and he tried to push it down discreetly. It didn't work. 

“Oh, _Crowley_ , you didn't.”

Crowley whirled on him. “This thing is too smart to be in a tank that small! They're out here solving puzzles and-and predicting World Cup winners! He deserves to swim around and live his weird octopus life. Make little octopus babies and eat a clam or something, I don't know what they eat. And also you _owe_ me one for that tortoise you stole from the zoo in the 18th century.”

The light turned green and he hit the gas pedal. One of the octopus’ arms was tickling behind his ear. Aziraphale sighed wistfully.

“First of all, you know I didn't steal Bartholomew. He crawled into my bag and I didn't notice until I got home. Second, I know you pretended to be jealous, but I caught you two basking together in the same sunny spot more than once. And third yes, I suppose you're right. This is important to you?”

Crowley nodded silently, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. 

Aziraphale nodded and patted his leg. “Let's go to the beach, then.”

Crowley turned to face him. “Really?”

“Really.” He paused. “Although are you sure it's the sea? You weren't sure earlier.”

He hadn't thought of that. “Should probably make sure.” He pulled out his phone and pulled up his browser to do a quick Google search. 

“Crowley, eyes on the _road_!”


	22. RUSKIGT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can our boys survive the dreaded couples trip to IKEA? (Yes, obviously, come on)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: IKEA
> 
> I don't want to hear from y'all who frequent IKEA that I put the knick knacks next to the chairs but actually they're like on a different floor or something. I am strictly an into and out of the warehouse IKEA user and the floor plans scare me.

“We’ve been here for an hour. What exactly do you need?”

Crowley bent at the waist to look at a large stuffed shark in a bin. “Dunno, was bored. ‘S what couples do when they're bored, right? Go to IKEA and accidentally buy furniture they don't actually need and then row about putting it together with misleading instruction booklets. That was me, you know. Pretty sure I'm responsible for at least ten percent of marital discord at this point.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “So we're not actually here to purchase anything.”

“Must one _consume_ everywhere one goes?” Crowley turned around, surveying the miscellaneous items around him and snatched one, holding it out to Aziraphale. “Here.”

Aziraphale took the white and gold oblong object in his hands and turned it over. “What is this?”

Crowley turned back to the display. “A Ruskigt.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes in a manner that Crowley knew he was resisting shoving the Ruskigt somewhere Crowley wouldn't find pleasant. 

“I do have things to do today, darling.”

Crowley sighed and placed his hand on Aziraphale’s lower back, leading him through the labyrinth. “At least let me move some arrows around and then we can go.”

They walked through another room and Aziraphale sat down in a dark green, high wing backed chair. “I'm going to wait here until you're done.”

Crowley made a noncommittal noise and then disappeared into the next area. Aziraphale sat quietly, his hands in his lap and his leg swinging gently over his crossed knee. 

And then Crowley circled back into the room. Three more times and scowling more and more each time. 

“I'll just sit here forever, shall I?” he called out on Crowley’s sixth pass. 

On the tenth he stood up and stopped the demon in his tracks. 

“Did you unintentionally create a loop that you can't find your way out of?”

Crowley moved his head back and forth, unintelligible sounds pouring from his open mouth. 

Aziraphale smiled and grabbed his hand. “Come along, dear. I'm sure we’ll be able to figure it out together.”


	23. Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale comes to an agreement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Crowley has sex with the Bentley
> 
> Technically this was a wildcard week from all of our past prompts, but this is the only one I wasn't actually part of the server for! So I chose it. I also wrote it two weeks ago, oops.

“Hello, dear.”

There wasn't a response, and Aziraphale sighed. He wasn't really expecting one to be honest. Not after the fight they'd had. 

“I said some harsh words earlier, and I’d like to apologize. There were some insults - I believe I called you a speed demon at some point, which was petty and uninspired. But more than that, I insulted your _character_. I called into question your integrity, when you’ve been nothing but reliable over these many years. So I’d just like to say that I’m sorry.”

Silence. _Typical._ Aziraphale huffed. 

“Well I suppose my apologies fall on deaf ears. And I do believe I’m owed an apology myself! Your actions hurt me, and I’m trying to make amends here. For the sake of the person we both love. You know he doesn’t like it when we squabble.”

The Bentley remained silent for a few more moments before purring its engine reluctantly. Aziraphale smiled.

“Ah, see. That’s better. And yes, I do accept your apology as well. I’m afraid I’m still just not used to seeing you two… _copulate_. The first time was quite a shock, and I definitely wasn’t prepared this morning to see him bouncing quite so enthusiastically on your ornament. But that doesn’t excuse my actions.”

The Bentley revved its engine gently again and Aziraphale walked forward to pat the bonnet affectionately, although pointedly ignoring said hood ornament. Goodness, that couldn’t have possibly been comfortable. 

“Perhaps a schedule?” Aziraphale mused. “You could have him on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and every other Saturday. Does that sound fair?”

The car growled and the metal under Aziraphale’s hand grew warmer. He tutted.

“No, you can’t have every Saturday. It’s not as if we won’t be with you other days of the week - I just ask you keep your _proclivities_ to those days. I think it’s a fair ask.”

The rumbling of the engine quieted to a simmer, and then flashed its lights quickly. Aziraphale laughed. 

“Oh, you are a wicked thing! He would be blushing if he heard you speak about him that way.” He leaned closer conspiratorially. “You’re absolutely right though! Sometimes it hardly fits!” 

The Bentley’s lights flashed again and the angel giggled. He walked to the front door and then turned back. “You know, he is right,” he said. “You are a _good_ car.”


	24. 1-800-HEAVEN4U

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale answers a prayer during a meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: prayers

Angelic prayers were a nuisance, and Aziraphale had always been quite content with being an angel no one had actually heard of. It started with a little ping in your mind, a subtle chime that went off once an hour until you actually addressed it. Once addressed, there was a wave of whatever feeling the person praying felt at the time, and then their voice. It wasn’t official policy that all prayers needed to be listened to, but Aziraphale hadn’t been paying attention on the day they covered how to mark all as read, so he had to sit through each one he received. Blessedly sporadic as that was.

He knew that he should be happy to receive any prayer, should be enthusiastic in his desire to listen and help someone in need. But good lord, they were annoying. Gabriel received thousands and the sympathy he felt at that fact was almost enough for Aziraphale to forgive him for leading the most boring meeting they’d had in several centuries.

Almost.

Aziraphale had no idea how many hours he’d been sitting there. Time always seemed to pass slower in Heaven. He stifled a yawn behind his hand, wishing he could at least be reading, when the soft chime went off in his head. He straightened up immediately, thankful for the distraction.

He was immediately flooded with arousal, and he nearly groaned both at the sensation and in frustration. 

“Oh, principality Aziraphale, guardian of the Eastern gate,” Crowley’s voice flowed through his mind, and Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed at his rough timbre. “Hear my prayer.

“You’ve been in that bloody celestial meeting for sixteen hours now, and I’m getting impatient. If you don’t come back in the next hour, I’m going to have to fuck myself on the biggest dildo I can find and still weep because it won’t be able to satisfy me the way your _enormous_ angelic cock can.”

Aziraphale felt a hot flush rise on his cheeks and looked around nervously. None of the other angels in the room seemed to have noticed his discomfort or any of the words still flowing through his mind. 

“--just absolutely pound me into the mattress, and then I want to sit in your lap and bounce on your cock and suck on your fingers the way you like - get them nice and wet and _dripping_ before you take me in hand and--”

Aziraphale had never in his life been more happy with his choice to wear a vulva that morning. Any discreet miracling away of an erection would not go unnoticed by his coworkers. He glanced at Uriel who happened to catch his eye, and she rolled her eyes at him before turning her attention back on Gabriel.

“--still think I have those aerial silks somewhere--”

_What_ was he talking about now? Aziraphale really should have at least taken a copy of the Powerpoint printouts about how to operate prayers. He was sure there was a rewind function somewhere.

“--just absolutely _covered_ in your come by the time I’m done with you, gonna take a couple of days at least--”

Aziraphale stood up suddenly, Crowley’s voice still whispering lascivious things in his ear, and Gabriel looked at him with a stunned, impressed look on his face. 

“Aziraphale! Didn’t think you’d be the one to volunteer, but I admire the initiative.”

He had no idea what he’d volunteered for, but he knew how to take an out when it presented itself.

“Ah! Yes! Well, you see, I’m very enthusiastic about this project--ideas already popping into my head. Just-- _stuffed_ to the brim with ideas, so I’d like to pop back down to Earth, write a couple down, and really get going on the whole thing.”

Gabriel grinned widely at him. “That’s the kind of attitude I like to see, Aziraphale! I’ll check in with you tomorrow?”

“Better give it a week, just to be safe. I can feel the uh, ideas, just--exploding out of me. Good day, Gabriel.”

Aziraphale gave him a curt nod and sprinted off towards the escalators.


	25. Anglerfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley treats Aziraphale to a perfect Valentine's Day with a big surprise for the finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Valentine's Day
> 
> Thank you very much to [Sosser86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sosser86) for that last line. It couldn't have been absolutely anything else.

Aziraphale had worried that asking Crowley to celebrate their first Valentine’s Day as an official couple would seem silly, but Crowley was enthusiastic and had squeezed his hand with a grin, promising him the best, most romantic Valentine’s Day ever. 

It had started out with a thorough fingering, Crowley's long digits sliding in and out of him slowly until he’d come several times. Then came the expensive brunch and bottomless cocktails, the bouquets of roses, the artisanal chocolates that Crowley had ordered from all of Aziraphale’s favorite places around the world. Then there was the Sunday matinee at the theatre, dinner at a surprisingly romantic hole in the wall Ethiopian restaurant, and a leisurely stroll through the park, walking hand and hand in the entire time. 

Aziraphale felt so loved, so _cherished_ , and when they got back to the bookstore, he slid his arms around Crowley's neck and kissed him sweetly. 

“Thank you for indulging me today, darling. It feels silly to be so affected by traditionally romantic things, but you really exceeded my expectations.”

Crowley cupped his cheek and kissed him back. “‘Course, angel. Anything for you. In fact, I do have one more surprise for you.” He grinned and leaned in to whisper directly into Aziraphale’s ear. “Get upstairs and on the bed. I want you to be completely naked by the time I get up there. Just need to prepare something first.”

Aziraphale shivered and pressed a heated kiss to his lips before bounding up the stairs and following Crowley’s instructions. He wiggled against the bedspread in eager anticipation. 

Finally he heard Crowley's footsteps approaching and sat up, propped up on his elbows. He wondered what Crowley had to prepare - maybe a strap on or a nice set of lingerie?

He was not prepared for what walked through the door. 

Crowley was fully naked, except for some kind of apparatus on his face that seemed to plug into his nose like an oxygen cannula. The tubes wrapped around the front of his face, the ends dangling near his ears. He looked proud, his arms outstretched as if to say _ta-da_ , and Aziraphale didn't quite know what to say.

The silence stretched on as he struggled to understand the image in front of him. Crowley’s grin lingered, but the corners of his mouth dropped a little. 

“Well?”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “Darling, what _is_ it?”

Crowley’s arms fell to his side. “It's a pussy snorkel!”

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. “A _what_?”

Crowley was frowning at him now. “A pussy snorkel! Saw it next door. Thought we could end the night with me going down on you for a couple hours. With this, I won't need to stop to breathe!”

The thing about loving someone very much is you never want them to feel stupid, even when they are, in fact, actually very stupid. Aziraphale tried to be gentle in his tone. 

“That's… a very thoughtful way to end what has been a perfect day. But you don't--Crowley, you don't _need_ to breathe anyway.”

Crowley stood, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes darting upward as if trying to figure that out. The ends of the tubes flopped impotently in the air as he moved his head back and forth. 

“Well.” There was a longer pause. “Fuck.”

Aziraphale scrambled to the edge of the bed and pulled him closer. He could find something to enjoy about this. He could. 

He could. 

“No, I like it though!” He said brightly. “You're like a--like a sexy anglerfish, that's what you are.”

Crowley’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes, very sexy anglerfish, you are. Ready to lure me in, eat me up.”

Crowley growled. “Yeah, I am.” He dropped to his knees and pulled Aziraphale’s hips closer to his face. He glanced back up wickedly. 

“Get ready, Aziraphale. I'm about to do some deep _C_ diving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Pussy Snorkel](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/674793596863643669/809522226343968848/FB_IMG_1613073457692.jpg) (not _technically_ NSFW)

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